Good for Nothing
by Gamma Orionis
Summary: She can try to be a Death Eater, to serve him like all the others do, but he would rather just use her like he would use any woman. Written for hp-kinkfest on Livejournal.


**Title:** Good for Nothing  
**Pairing:** Bellatrix/Voldemort  
**Prompt:** "Rape fantasy: Some nights Bellatrix wants to give up all control and be completely at her Master's mercy. Bonus points for manhandling, rough sex, humiliation, slut shaming, extreme painplay and fear/danger kink," for hp_kinkfest on Livejournal.  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 3 200  
**Warnings:** Heavy on rape, light on fantasy. Non-con, dirty talk (of a slut-shame-y variety), misogyny

There was no shame greater to Bellatrix's mind than failing her Lord.

She could have berated and tortured herself to a state far worse than anything the Dark Lord could do to her in punishment, but the fact that she could so thoroughly punish herself did not stop him from punishing her himself when he felt that she had been unsuccessful in some task that he had granted her.

So it was when he took her away from the Ministry for Magic after she had failed to retrieve the prophecy for him – he saved her from returning to Azkaban, which was more than he had done for the others, but even as he dragged her out from beneath the statue that had pinned her down, even as he held her close, even as he Disapparated with her in his arms, she could foresee his methods of disciplining her.

When they arrived back at Malfoy Manor, he dragged her into the dining hall and flicked his wand at the door. Bellatrix heard the lock click into place before her Master threw her to the ground and wiped his hands upon his robes, his face twisting with disgust as he looked down upon her.

"Your failure, Bellatrix, is intolerable."

"Master…" She did not want to beg, not even him – her pride was too strong to ever let her truly humble herself. "Master, it was not my fault- Lucius –"

"Do not blame Lucius. He will be suitably punished – but that is not your concern." The Dark Lord's voice was a low, dangerous hiss, and his eyes glinted crimson in the candlelight. "_You_ failed, Bellatrix. We are talking about _you_."

"I tried, my Lord, I tried!"

He said nothing, but turned away from her and began to pace, up and down across the Malfoys' handsome dining room. Bellatrix watched him breathlessly, awaiting his verdict. Mercy? _Oh, please, let him be merciful_. She wanted his good will so desperately.

"You did try, Bellatrix," he said at last, and she let out a whimper of relief. "You tried, and you have been such a good servant to me in the past. But that does not negate – you failed tonight, and failure cannot go unpunished."

"I understand, my Lord." _Please let the punishment be kind_. She had seen what he had done to those that he truly believed had failed him – death had been the kindest act. She had watched him torture them, hurt them in the most horrifying and perverse ways, ways that had always brought a smile to her lips and an aching to her belly. She had so many memories of the pleasure she had received from the pain that her Master had inflicted upon those who were being punished, and now it could be her turn – her turn to suffer all the agonies that she had witnessed before…

He turned to her and stooped, holding out a hand to her. "You are beautiful when you are afraid, Bella."

So _quickly_ could his tones turn soft and sweet, and Bellatrix knew not what to believe. She wanted to believe that his extended hand and his use of her pet name indicated forgiveness, but she had known her Lord too long for that. He would not forgive that easily. She could not expect him to.

And yet, still, she held her hand out to him, and he gripped it tightly enough to cut the blood away from her fingers.

"Master?"

"Your punishment will be mild, Bella," he assured her. "I daresay that you might even enjoy…"

"I will suffer as much as you wish me to, my Lord."

He straightened, lifting her to her feet, his eyes locked on hers. Bellatrix dared not even breathe and she clung to his hands with icy, clammy fingers.

The Dark Lord was pressing her backwards now – not pushing her, not quite, and she stumbled over her feet to move as he was directing her, until she felt the wall press against her back and a whimper tore itself from her throat.

"Master, what–"

"Hush…" He drew one finger slowly up her throat and along her cheek, stroking her skin. "This will hardly even be a punishment… almost a _reward_…"

"Master, I don't–"

He pressed his finger to her lips and she fell silent immediately, then he leaned close and she felt his cool breath brushing her neck.

"You need to suffer, Bella, and you need to offer… compensation… for your failure."

"How could I compensate for the loss of something so important, my Lord?" Bellatrix tried and failed to keep the resentment out of her voice. She didn't understand his intentions, though she felt sure that he was prompting her in some way, trying to tease some sort of reaction out of her – like she ought to know what he meant.

"You couldn't." Scorn now, and disgust, and he pulled away. "You- silly little girl- you can never even hope to understand how deep your failure is… but I will make this easy for you. I know what _you_ believe to be the cure for all ills… what is foremost in your mind now, as always…"

"I don't understand, Master…"

"Oh, but you do." He placed one hand upon her waist and a shudder ran through her body. "You are thinking of it now, and you were when you were in the Department of Mysteries, and you _always_ think of it. You are so _basely_ ruled, Bella…"

Bellatrix pressed her lips together and turned her head away, a flush rising swiftly in her cheeks. The Dark Lord let out a quiet laugh.

"You understand now?"

"I think so, my Lord," Bellatrix whispered, and barely had the words left her mouth when her Master's hands dropped from her waist and he placed one upon her shoulder and pushed her down. Bellatrix's stomach twisted and tightened with fear (_excitement?_). It was all she could do to struggle down onto her knees – her legs felt like jelly and she was completely unable to support herself. She looked up at the Dark Lord and his eyes were alight. Alight in the way they were when he was about to torture or kill the unworthy. Alight in a way that frightened her, no matter his assurances that what he would do to her would be closer to reward than punishment.

"Master, please don't- don't hurt me." It sounded so pitiful to say it and she doubted that he cared much what she said and she _hated_sounding afraid in front of him, but she _had_ to beg. It was all that she could think to do.

His hand snapped out and he grasped her by the chin, jerking her head up. "Don't snivel and whimper, you pathetic little excuse for a girl – don't beg for safety like a child who's afraid of being whipped…"

Bellatrix whimpered. "Don't, my Lord – I don't–"

"Don't want this, Bella? You would rather receive some other form of punishment?" He bent over her, face inches from hers, and she could feel his breath against her skin again. "Do you think that I don't know your thoughts of me? Do you think that I don't know how you've prayed for this day? You should be grateful, Bella, to receive this…"

"I- I have not thought of you, my Lord." It was a lie, a blatant lie that Bellatrix could not have hoped to maintain – not that she thought the Dark Lord believed her for a moment – but she couldn't bring herself to admit the way that she _did_ think of him. She didn't want to think about the way she lusted for him, not when she was so plainly at his mercy…

"Don't lie to me." He slapped her hard and she fell backwards, scrambling away, stifling ragged sobs. "Don't lie to me, _slut_." The way he said it deepened the insult – he spoke with such contempt, and he could not stand that he thought contemptuously of her.

"I'm not lying," she protested, and he slapped her again. She pulled herself backwards until she was flat against the wall and he stood over her, bearing down on her.

"You are," he hissed. His fingers wound in her hair and he pulled her head backwards again. "You are lying to me, Bellatrix…" He lowered his voice to a silky whisper. "And I do not approve of it. I would not be so angry if you would simply tell me the truth."

She could hardly speak at all. All that happened when she opened her mouth was that a fresh stream of desperate sobs came out. Each one felt like it was being pulled directly out of her heart, out of her chest, torn out of her.

"Tell me how you think of me, Bellatrix."

"I- I desire you, my Lord," she managed at last, and her face burned with shame. "I lust after you."

"_Whore._" He spat the word out at her and she winced. To be called by such a degrading name, and by the _Dark Lord_…

"I know what you want." He grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her up, pressing her against the wall. "I know how you look at me and wish that I would do _this_…" He let one hand trail down to her breast, flutter over her skin, and his lips brushed lightly against her throat. "I know how desperately you have wished that I would lay my hands on you just like this… how, deep inside, you're perfectly thrilled that I'm touching you when I _should_ be torturing you…"

"No, my Lord," Bellatrix whispered hoarsely, even as she felt her nipples stiffen beneath his fingers. He stroked them through her dress and she heard his breath quicken.

"Yes, Bellatrix, yes. Lying to me does you no good. Do you understand me, Bella?" His nails dug into her skin and he pressed his body against hers. "Do you understand how well I know you? I can see every foul, promiscuous little thought that crosses your _dirty_ mind…" He slapped her breasts, leaving a red hand mark across the tops, and she sobbed again, digging her fingers into her skirts to stop herself from pushing him back.

"Please don't," she whispered brokenly. "I- I have had terrible thoughts about you, I admit, my Lord, but please… do not use them like this… as a punishment…" _Don't take away my fantasies of you, my only pleasure._

"Oh, but you enjoy this so…" His hand trailed down to her waist and he held her close against him, brushing his lips over her throat, her cheek, her forehead. "You _love_ to think about me. It gives you so much pleasure – you would never give that up…"

"I can't help it, my Lord," Bellatrix whispered. "You are- you are such an _incredible_ man – how could any woman!" Her voice rose a few notes and she knew that she sounded hysterical. "How could any woman not desire you? How can you _shame_ me for feelings that are only natural –"

"Justification in your desire is no excuse, Bella," he murmured against her forehead. His hands were tracing her hips, and he drew his fingertips over the laces of her corset. "My Death Eaters must be able to control their own minds, and you allow these thoughts to pollute yours… allowed them to be a distraction to you…"

"They were not a distraction to me!" Bellatrix trembled in his arms. "Do you believe that it was because- because of thoughts of _you_that I failed at the Ministry tonight?"

"Perhaps," he said softly. "Whether they did or did not, you are thinking of me now…" His hand slipped between her thighs and she pressed wantonly against it, desperate for more of his touch, even as she tried to hide her desires. This would surely be the only time that he would ever lay his hands upon her.

"Such a whore," he breathed, his voice soft and rhythmic, almost soothing in a way. "Such a slut for me…"

"Please, my Lord–"

"Do you want me to take you, Bellatrix?" he whispered sharply. "Do you want me to take you, or am I just your fantasy? When you think of me, do you really want me to do the things that you think about?"

"No!" she managed. "I- I am your servant- and I do not deserve you, least of all now…"

"You say that." His fingers rubbed at her slit through her dress and she arched forward automatically. "But do you mean it? Do you want me to stop touching you, Bellatrix, because you believe that you are only worthy of punishment? Is that true?"

"Yes!"

"Liar," he whispered. "You've never believed that you're unworthy. Proud little whore – you believe that you're _perfect_ for me, don't you? You aren't thinking that you're unworthy when you're sitting at the meeting with your eyes on me. You aren't thinking about your husband when you fantasize about me… pushing you up against the wall… having you…" He pressed his body against hers and she felt his hardness brush her thigh. Her knees weakened.

"And so I ask you again, do you want me, Bellatrix?"

"Yes," she whispered, and her face burned when she said it. He was _so much_ more than her fantasy, but how could she explain that to him? How could she explain her all-consuming desire for him – not just for his body, but for his love and his trust… all the things that he so carelessly denied her.

"Stupid little girl…" he murmured, and it sounded almost tender. She looked up at him, but barely had she lifted her head when he dragged her away from the wall and threw her to the ground. She curled away from him automatically, whimpering at the pain when she hit the floor, but she didn't have time to dwell on it before he was over her again and pulling her legs apart.

"No, oh no!" Bellatrix struggled, kicking at him, but he held her legs fast in place. This was all wrong – there was no love and no trust in this, and her lust evaporated when he held her down. If only he would torture her and _finish_ it all…

"What is it, Bella?" His eyes were alight with desire like she had never seen in him before. "Afraid?"

She nodded, clawing at the ground as she tried to gain enough leverage to push herself away from him.

"So afraid, my Lord," she whimpered. She didn't dare to meet his eyes again, but looked down at herself, at her skirts fanning over the floorboards, and at his hands, firm upon her thighs.

"You disgust me," he spat. "I should not lower myself to touch you. You are not worthy of it."

"I- I know, my Lord, I do not wish to be worthy of you- I know I am not- please, I don't want–"

"Silence!"

"I'm sorry, my Lord, I'm sorry!" Bellatrix sobbed.

He held her in place and one hand dragged ever so slowly up between her thighs. His fingers brushed at her most private parts and she pulled her knees together instinctively, trying to clamp his hand between her legs so that he couldn't continue to touch her.

His thumb slid over her clitoris and Bellatrix's hips bucked automatically – a reaction that she could not control. Fresh shame washed over her.

"Dirty, dirty little girl… enjoying this?" He pressed a little harder against her clit and Bellatrix gasped softly. _Yes_, she enjoyed it, but _no_, she didn't want it – it was wrong, everything was wrong.

One finger slid inside her and a half-formed moan escaped her lips. Oh, _why_ could he not have done this to her any other time, instead of waiting for the moment when she felt the most vulnerable, the most unworthy of his touch?

His hand was gone and Bellatrix closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists, struggling to even her breathing. She tried to clear her mind so that the Dark Lord would not know the rushes of conflicting emotions she was suffering – lust for him, anger at herself, fear of what was to come.

She felt the weight of his body pressing over hers, his chest flat against her own, one hand pulling back her head and the other pressed against her hip. She dared not open her eyes, for she didn't want to see the look of satisfaction that she knew was on his face. Satisfaction that he was putting her in her place, making her struggle with so many feelings that she didn't want.

"Pretty, pathetic little Bella…" His hand lifted away from her hip and she felt him shifting on top of her, felt the rustling of his robes, and then his cock was pressing into her – slowly, not roughly or hastily, but it didn't matter what pace he moved at. Sex was secondary for him, compared to words and thoughts – she could sense his interest waning even as he buried himself inside her. He thrust steadily and rhythmically and it sent little spasms of pleasure through her – nothing more than her body's reaction to the stimulation. After the things he had said to her, after all that, the sex had become secondary to her too – her body wanted to enjoy it, but she would not let it.

_Just let it be over._

Bellatrix did not move when the Dark Lord released her. She lay still upon the floor, arms and legs spread and eyes closed, until his hand wrapped around her wrist and he jerked her to her feet.

"At least you are still good for something, Bellatrix," he murmured in her ear, and she said nothing. She was sure that if she spoke, she would break down into tears. She felt worthless – and wasn't that what he had intended? To show her that she was _not_ a Death Eater, to remind her that she failed in the tasks he set for her in that field, and all that she was was a _woman_, weak and incapable, to be used for his pleasure…

_Better to be used for sex than for nothing at all._

He could have used the Cruciatus curse on her, but all that would have done was hurt her body and he knew that she could withstand that. But _this…_

And to be told that she ought to enjoy it, that she did desire him, after all…

And yes, there was a part of her that loved that he would give her even this attention…

And yes, she did lust after him, had spent nights wishing that he would take her like this, but not for him to do it to her as a_punishment_…

But she couldn't say that.

"If this is how you wish me to serve you, Master, then this is how I shall serve," she said, forcing herself to erase all passion from her voice, but she thought, _I could serve you as both a woman and a Death Eater, if only you would not believe that the desires of one cancel the capabilities of the other._

)O(

_Fin_


End file.
